Darling, Love is Ugly
by jenna323.m
Summary: After the tragedy that Infinity War brought, most is resolved in the world and Loki's death never happened. Now, because the earth isn't open to Loki's residence there, Thor, Loki, and Brunnhilde join the Guardians, where Loki forms a friendship with Mantis. The story focuses on their ability to help each other with their powers and the dynamic they create. (full summary inside)
1. Chapter 1: Mantis

One

Mantis

I am an empath. Quite simply the word itself and nothing else beyond it. My full purpose since my larva state has resounded amidst this word. The emotions come in waves each morning and each night, and sometimes I find it difficult to decipher if they are my own or someone else's. You see, being an empath is like being in the eye of a hurricane. I see all the disaster and waste that comes from people's thoughts and feelings, and sometimes I get rained on too. I watch those things swirling around and around and sometimes I get wet. And the rain is on my arms and in my eyes, I can't tell if it comes from my own eyes or someone else's.

I am aware this sounds dramatic. And it is dramatic to feel the tug of war within humans and aliens and gods alike. And now, despite the rest of my life, I am overwhelmed. I have never felt so much. I have never witnessed the presence of so many people. Even two is much. Even one.

In my early childhood, Ego took the time to show me how a person thought about things. He told me, "this is happiness." "This is sadness." "This is love." I never really saw those things in him, but he had described them. He told me stories often of people, and I would do my best to point out how those characters felt. I was so young when he told me stories, playing them in his makeshift cinema.

"Is he happy?" I asked about one character.

"He is," Ego told me.

But now, in the presence of real people, I realize that he was not. Not happy, that is.

And neither was I. Never had been. Never knew I wasn't until I became happy.

I am glad to have found friends. Drax, in particular, has made my heart happy, in a way that results in my stomach hurting in a good way. Laughter, I suppose, is the source of our connection. Drax, though lonely often, does not run out of comedy. And its crude, I guess, if crude is a bad thing. I don't know why it would be. And he appreciates my acceptance of that.

"For someone who feels so much, you aren't all that sensitive."

"What do you mean?"

He shakes his head. "I call you ugly and you laugh."

I don't understand why ugly would be bad, and if so, what is it? What makes someone ugly? I clear my throat, only to make my point stand. "I am glad to be ugly." Because I know Drax is right. Someday, if I am loved, I will be loved for real. And even if I am not loved, because I am too ugly, it doesn't matter. I have Drax. I have me.

"Girls don't like to be called ugly, most of the time."

"Why not? They should take it as a compliment."

He laughs at me again and I find myself smiling awkwardly because I think I should feel like I'm wrong about this. Back when Gamora was alive, she had always made a point to reassure me that I wasn't. Somehow, I guess she thought I needed that reassurance as it mattered to me. Though I never argued or questioned why or how I wasn't ugly, I hadn't cared quite enough but I thought I would take it from someone who I would define, based off the standards I've heard, as someone beautiful.

Speaking of which, I found there was nothing more beautiful and terrible than the feeling of a quiet space shuttle. The Milano was noiseless. Quill, who I would only ever describe as outrageously fun, hadn't played a single song since Gamora died. And this was far out of the ordinary. Unnerving mostly. The only sounds reminiscent of before is the quiet bickering of Quill and Rocket, the now lower voice of Groot from time to time, and Drax's laughter. And it's sad because even Drax's laughter is lower. Quieter.

I had described it as sad, but also beautiful. Though I don't find any of it good, there is beauty in the stillness. In the togetherness. Don't get me wrong, I can feel rage and sorrow all throughout the room. It is my gift as well as my curse. But it is a beautiful curse to know. To feel. The aesthetic of the moment. The pulse of my companions. I can feel it, even without my hands on them, I can feel their voices crying and singing and being. It is beautiful, though very sad.

Quill says we need change and I think that's good. Our new friend Thor had come to see us a few weeks ago, as nothing more than a visit, which was good since the first time we met was so grim. Even now, it is grim and that is because we lost Gamora.

He lost things too though. Despite finding a loophole and saving his brother, he hadn't found a way to save all of Asgard. And with that, his good friend Heimdall. I saw the rage in his eyes the second he boarded the Milano then, though it had softened now that his brother, Loki, was alive and well. I, within the split second I made physical contact with him, found the source of his rage did no go against the universe or Thanos or anyone but himself. He truly saw himself as a failed king. It was devastating.

Even then, with the liveliness that was Thor, despite everything, the entire universe was tainted. Quieter. Thor had noted this somewhere during the conversation, promising it would end.

"How?" Quill asked.

The God smiled slightly, soberly. "Because I'm accepting your offer, Quill."

About everyone on board the ship looked up in confusion, not knowing what they had offered the God of Thunder. It was clear the Quill had used a royal we in his conversation with Thor, which truly, was like him to do.

Quill then explained that he offered an invitation to Thor, along with whoever he needed to bring with him, to join them on the Milano. This was news the everyone, though, it wasn't completely rejected. Rocket was the first to have a problem with it, which surprised no one. What I found spectacularly surprising was that Quill had given the invitation, despite the way he had acted in the presence of Thor the first time.

"They'll lock my brother up if we stay on earth. Apparently, Midgardians aren't as forgiving as the people of Asgard were. It may be wise of them, though."

That was guilt, I could tell. His brother may be his brother, but he had been part of Asgard's destruction. What was troubling was that Thor didn't blame Loki for that nearly as much as he had himself.

Rocket had the audacity to ask if Loki's presence would result of all of our death's, which Thor only responded to with a small smile. "I'd like to hope he has changed."

"I'd like to hope you're right."

Though Rocket's personality was often cruel, it was just as much soft. He wasn't trying to reach a sore spot with Thor just for kicks. It was only his nature to point things out. To question. And more than that, he wasn't a fan of new people. He needed to cover all his bases to be sure things wouldn't end like it had with Gamora. Rocket, despite his reputation, was incredibly protective of his crew.

"Loki will behave himself. I have learned to predict his movements."

"Like you did with the Tesseract?" Rocket asked.

Thor looked down, trying to answer the raccoon effectively. "I can't say I was surprised."

Rocket sighed loudly. Obnoxiously. It was intentional, only to be dramatic. "Can't be any worse than Nebula."

Coming out from behind the shadow, where she had been perched, Nebula sighed. "I'm offended," she said dryly, not at all offended.

"I'll also be bringing my friend Brunnhilde. We mostly call her Valkyrie."

"Absolutely wonderful," Rocket noted sarcastically.

Thor exchanged a grin with him.

Clearly, our little family was about to get more crowded, which made me a bit uneasy. New people did that to me sometimes, just as my current crew had at first. It was just with my powers, I couldn't just meet new people. I had to learn them. Know them. Without touching them, I could see worlds in their eyes. I could feel worlds in their eyes. And each person, no matter the species, was complex. Drax was nothing like Quill. Nebula was nothing like Gamora. I was nothing like Groot. And these new people, Thor included, would likely be nothing like me. I was excited to learn these people but afraid I didn't want to.

Nebula had scared me at first, though not as much as Ego. She was at first glance cold. Her thoughts seemed just as mechanical as most of her body. It scared me quite a bit, to see a brain overload in such a way. But I learned quickly that her robotic nature was routine. Her coldness was grief. I learned that with certainty after Gamora's death. Now I found a few of her soft spots, though sometimes they were small. Sometimes it would be her thinking about things when she thought she was alone. Sometimes it would be the dull half smile she gave as she looked at something beautiful in space. And sometimes it would be the silent acceptance she had given when they had told her she could stay with them. Sadly though, to myself who wanted to learn more about her colors, she had left. She had become good friends with a man named Tony Stark who had promised to help her find more suitable technology that would make her feel more human. After much thought and argument over the phone with him, she had agreed. And though she said she would return, we all knew she wouldn't.

But it took time to figure her out, and likely, it would take time to figure out these new faces. I won't deny the terror of that, knowing I was often easily overwhelmed by the emotions they would bring. Knowing so much about people hurt quite a bit and the more people present, the worse it felt. But with that, excitement prevailed. I was thrilled to know more about Thor. I was delighted to meet Loki and Brunnhilde.

I wasn't entirely sure what to think when the group first arrived. Thor did most of the talking, while Valkyrie chimed in from time to time, adding on to whatever her friend was saying. And Loki seemed a bit quiet, though something about his eyes screamed that it wasn't really his nature. Not anymore.

What convinced me that this was a turn for the better was what had happened a few hours later, when Thor was sitting beside Quill in the cockpit, talking about some of the things he had learned during his few months on earth.

"I was introduced to this music group by the name of Led Zeppelin. A bit of an acquired taste, I think."

"Not really," Quill said, sighing. "I can play some if you want."

And that was when things changed. Not completely, of course. The music wasn't as common as it used to be, and often, the songs Quill would choose weren't as positive as they once were, but the point was that he was playing music again. And I could only thank Thor for that one.

'Stairway to Heaven' was blasting through the ship's speakers as I fell asleep that first night, wrapped up in the blanket Drax had dug up for me the first time I stayed on the Milano. It was ugly and green and yellow and worn out, but it was soft, and it smelled like my friends. Now I couldn't sleep without it.

I remember very distinctly, falling asleep to this song, with Quill humming softly and Thor listening with quiet delight. Rocket and Brunnhilde shared a drink toward the back, with Loki watching them with disinterest, with his finger in the crease of the book he was reading. Drax had crashed in his seat and Groot was playing a game on his device. And I, I was at peace, knowing that these new friends would, if nothing else, at least be memorable.

When will I feel this

As vivid as it truly is,

Fall in love in a single touch,

And fall apart when it hurts too much?

* * *

 **I was really, really debating whether I should post this or not, simply cause I'm only a few chapters in with my writing. However, I feel strongly about this story and I hope you can enjoy it. As always, your reviews are always welcomed as well as your constructive criticism. Hearing from all of you is so motivating.**

 **Jenna**


	2. Chapter 2: Loki

Who whom the gods love dies young.

-Menander

Two

Loki

Originally, I hadn't been thrilled at the thought of spending my days with the group of imbeciles that Thor had illustrated. They sounded outright brainless, even more so than the Avengers, which spoke volumes. Even so, I didn't have plenty of options besides that, unless, of course, I wholly cast aside my brother once again all to make a name for my myself on my own terms. And frankly, in most ways, there was little I desired to do more than just that. And I truly would have, if not for my brother's recurring pleas.

"Come on, brother. Just once, it can be you and me on the same side. Is that not what you want?"

And of course, I wanted that. In spite of what the entire universe supposed of me, I did not find real pleasure while opposing my brother. Not for the sheer existence of it. I'll confess, my whole life has been assembled atop my apprehension and resentment, but none of it is still aimed toward my brother. Not presently. Somewhere amidst the proceeding days, my jealousy abated, and now, I am a liquid deity. I can hardly call to mind a time when I truly despised Thor.

The additional recognition that drove me toward my brother's request was that of my past. In the face of my craftiness and capabilities as a sorcerer and a combatant, I had met quite a few missteps in my judgment. With even genuine intentions, I had frequently made choices by utilizing my resentment or temper or even love. I had become tied up within myself in the actions, and other people suffered for my double-dealing. And more than anyone, had I done so to Thor. Due to my countless missteps, I no longer have the capacity to rely on my own mind. It would be preferable to live a dull existence with minuscule enthusiasm than to be Loki and demolish the world seeing that I have no dominance over my own body.

The reality that my brother has offered me the invitation at all was a tribute to his good nature, more merciful than I had ever needed or wanted from him. I substantial piece of me would have been satisfied with a hushed farewell and the knowledge of being loathed, but yet, my brother has prevailed. He has me in his grasp, which I frequently turn from, but even now, even after everything that has happened, I can't drag myself away anymore. I'm so worn. I require a change. I require something completely new.

And of course, I can't remain on Midgard. Thor hadn't considered everything. He should have known the FBI and every familiar and unfamiliar intelligence agency on the earth would come after me. Concealing myself in a spare room at Stark Tower was becoming a bit too flimsy of a safe house, despite the Avengers remaining loyal only due to Thor's endeavors. Most of them would have done their best to have me transported to as far away from New York as attainable.

Though, I will concede it wasn't all dreadful. I had roomed with another mortal who they claimed required to stay secluded until his name was cleared, so I wasn't all alone in every way. He said his name was Bucky, which he didn't regularly seem too self-confident about. But he was pleasant and easy to speak to, also had some wits about him, but he was quite temporary. A few weeks back, he had come out of hiding, needing not to stay in the room with me anymore. Now he spent his days with Steve, Sam, and Natasha. He came to visit me a few times after that, but it wasn't the same. I was no longer content with the vacant room and my books. Thor was correct. We were in need of a change.

In due course, I had given into Thor's wishes while venturing to accept that I was entirely opposed to this option. "I will regret this."

"Maybe," he declared. "Or maybe you'll make a friend."

I sneered. "I am not concerned with friendship." Why would I be, being that I had never had a real friendship to begin with?

"What about these last few days? Are you not friends with Bucky?"

How could I express to him how much more demanding friendship was to me than it was to him? I nearly apologized for not being a natural extrovert, but I concluded I shouldn't squander my breath. Even being what some may consider bold or outgoing, true social communication repelled me. Allies, sure. People to use and/or work with. Okay. But friends? I didn't even contemplate the probability these days.

"James," I clarified, "was a companion I enjoyed the company of. We bonded over murder and knives, but he was not my friend, alright? Soon he will conclude visiting entirely and he will be married to Romanoff or Rogers and I will no longer be a part of his world at all, alright."

"That is quite a negative outlook," he told me.

I shook my head. "I'm a realist."

Thor decided he wouldn't persuade me otherwise, though it wouldn't stop him from trying later, I had no doubt. "Perhaps you'll appreciate the Guardians. They're chaotic, erratic. I imagine you'll get along well with them."

"Or perhaps I'll die young because of their stupidity."

He examined me with a faint frown, almost furious that I would make fun of something like death, considering he had watched me die, not once, but three times now. "Are you coming or not?"

I had already packed a little bag, mostly of books I had swiped from one of Midgard's libraries and a couple pointless mementos I would never dare to admit mattered. I had been waiting in an almost black, green battle-ready ensemble for the last two hours. All the indignation and protest I felt in my spirit was weakening because I had already made my mind up. And silently, I accompanied him outside.

I was unimpressed by the Milano as well as most of the people in it, but I tried my hardest to keep an open mind. Thor had already built a bond with Rocket, who was some sort of animal but not a rabbit as Thor had told me, and Groot, who was a Floral Colossus. As for Groot, I was enraged with myself for passing by a certain elective during my education, contrasting my brother who had taken the course for the sheer delight of studying, as he put it, "the language of the trees!" I had been educated in multiple ways of speech myself, reasoning I would never have the need to speak, well…tree.

Surveying the ship to see the rest of its crew, I concluded who I would and who I would not get along with. And it was a bit unfortunate that I established in seconds that I wouldn't be friends with any of them.

Drax could be passable, I supposed if I was anyone but myself. He could at least be a source of entertainment. More importantly, he would also be easy to deceive since he takes everything literally.

I have nothing against Rocket or Groot. Groot, despite being a "teenager," may somehow be the most intelligent on the entire spacecraft.

Quill doesn't seem like my sort of companion, but I will aim to keep him on my good side since he appears to be the captain of this group, though, Thor seems to believe its leader is Rocket.

And then there is Mantis, who eagerly introduced herself to me the second I boarded the ship. She extended her hand, which I met as briskly as possible before letting go. This was primarily because of what Thor had informed me about her on the way there, letting me know that she was an empath. I didn't desire that my every sentiment and passion be displayed in front of all of my potential new friends, as well as my brother. As well as myself.

She appeared nonplussed by my distaste for her touch and went on to tell me about herself and how enlivened she was to have new friends, which was bizare since I knew for a fact that friendships were barely born in a day. I assume it was difficult to take her seriously for multiple grounds. At first glance, I had thought Mantis was a child. Not because of her appearance exactly, but because of the way she beamed and the eagerness that conducted it.

"Pleased to meet you," I said impassively, keeping my hands at my sides and a considerable space between myself and the girl. As I stood, awaiting what she would do next, I watched her face fall from elation to unsureness. And then, understanding.

"My abilities outside of battle are strictly for observation. I've learned, due to the Guardians, that it is not polite to announce another person's feelings."

"Though it is funny," I heard from Drax passing.

I took a breath, daunted by my stress about her abilities.

Needless to say, I wasn't overjoyed about the new arrangement. I won't claim though that I had not missed being in space. Being above the earth. The Mortals. Not because of superiority or any other nonsense, but just because space was home. Now we were closer to Asgard. Closer to the sea where my mother was wisped away into infinity. Closer to the gardens where Thor and I used to run. Even if it was all ash now, it still survived my mind. It wouldn't leave me.

Now that it was us again in space, I had the opportunity to set things right between Thor and myself. And after such a long time, I can't say I opposed it. In truth, I love Thor just as I would if we shared blood, and I know, in spite of my recurring uncertainty, that he feels the same. In any case, there is this ceaseless harassment. This perpetual ringing in the back of my head, telling me that my brother's end will come because of me, since death, no matter how far I run from it, follows my direction. I may be the God of Mischief, but I feel like the Grim Reaper.

For such a long time I believed I had been the only one immune to my curse, as I wandered across worlds and cheated death more times then I told truths. But one day, my sins found me, and my nightmare came to life, only to break me one last time. The moves the Avengers made to avert that devastation ending up rescueing me, but I remember it still. It lives in my brother's memory, and by default, after he showed me, my own. Now I haunt myself as I rehearse it. I will never make my death a lie again, not for my brother to believe. I had never known how vastly it had mattered until I saw that memory, and now, I am beginning to know how significantly I've mattered to him all along.

So I will endure whatever adventure Thor desires if it means I can make up for this, by any means at all. It is not my only objective, but I wouldn't mind it. And truly, I had never had a genuine opportunity to make a friend since before it all. Since before the day I watched my arm turn blue with frost on the land of Jötunheimr . And if I make a friend, perhaps I will find pleasure in that. And if I don't, maybe I will at least have Thor.

The one thing, which has devoured me for quite an immense portion of my existence, is the hunger for the throne. It lives inside of me and it does not fade. Not perfectly, anyway. Over the years, yes, I have lost it. Getting the chance to rule Asgard has lessened it. I got what I had wanted, and it hadn't been all that I thought. Granted, the entire point of my rule over Asgard was to pose as Odin and conceal myself from Thanos, so the incessant unease didn't leave much room for satisfaction.

Among all of this, I had been pondering in a closed-off space toward the rear of the ship, bothered by the babbling of its inhabitants and their childish humor. It had no wit. No thought. It was just mindless gag after gag, with laughter only to occupy space. I was so intent on my desire to escape it that I had forgotten that I had. I was only made aware that I was still on the ship when I felt a finger brush my back, causing me to instinctively pull myself away.

She looked apologetic when I met her face, seeing that I was disturbed by her company, more so the surprise of it than it at all. "Sorry," she communicated, looking down at her feet.

I hadn't perceived how very vividly by body language expressed rejection until I looked to my hands and noticed I had them lifted as if I was caught a criminal, and more than that, my expression hadn't changed from firm displeasure for a near thirty seconds. I tried to drop it, loathing my own trepidation that had made me on edge, wanting nothing more than to let my arms fall loose and my breath to fall steadily. But plainly, the Loki who did that, the Loki with glorious purpose had banished my body, and now I was that hesitant child again. This was the Loki that was incapable of making a friend. The same Loki I had always been.

"It's alright," I managed, my hands falling to my sides in a more casual position. I half wondered if my position made me look like a hunter, while the other half made me assume I resembled the prey. "Do you require anything?"

Her smile, which was nowhere near tame, gleamed my direction for a moment, which she straightaway adapted into an earnest stare that was still not far from ecstatic. She was eager for unknown motives to interact with me. Though I knew nothing about her, my intuition told me that her eagerness to know me had little to do with me and certainly everything to do with her.

"No, nothing," she claimed, her voice little. "I just thought you might be lonely."

I wasn't sure whether to feel touched or irritated by that statement, but the sheer innocence in her tone made me alarmed, knowing that this was the sort of person I wouldn't want to make sad. It was somewhat because of the fragility which I presumed she had. Another part, because even I had more heart than to wound someone with such naïve tenderness.

But still, I replied. "Oh, no. I'm not lonely." And it was true, somewhat.

She grinned uncomfortably, for me anyway, and extended a hand toward me, though not to really touch me. "I don't have to touch you to know that is a lie. I'm very good at reading people."

"Really?" I queried, my voice laced with sarcasm, making an effort to humor her. "And what is it you understand about me, then?"

She reached her hand toward me more so now, which I answered to with a gesture of my hand, as if I was swatting away a bug. It wasn't really my goal to do so, but that's how it happened. She didn't seem to notice. "No powers," I spoke softly. "Just your…abilities."

Suddenly, her enormous eyes, neither monstrous nor appealing, caused her to resemble an owl. It would have looked like a dead stare if her eyes weren't sparkling in this unusual wonder that caused me to lift one eyebrow in question. But she moved along, studying me deeply. I wasn't entirely certain why I was allowing her to do this, but I figured if she did discover any skeletons in the closets by peering at my outward appearance alone than I should remain wary of her. If she could do nothing or very little, I could no doubt avoid her well enough to remain on the ship. Though candidly, even alone with only her, I wasn't confident that I wanted to hear things about myself that I may fancy not to know.

"You look tired," she said straightforwardly, scanning me cautiously as I observed her, unimpressed. "And anxious…"

I rolled my eyes.

"And bitter," brilliant, really. "So, so bitter."

I was certain she was about to go on, but I didn't feel like hearing more. Not, of course, because she had distressed me by revealing that me, Loki, was bitter. Shocking, really. I don't know how she made such a deduction.

"Good bitter," she said, sighing.

"Good bitter? Interesting. I'm impressed."

She looked up again, eyes beaming. "Really?" she asked, her smile gigantic.

Of course, she hadn't noted the sarcasm in my compliment, but I decided to let her remain jovial and reassure her of her brilliance. "Yes, of course," I said with only a little sarcasm.

She continued watching me, looking incredibly fascinated.

"Mantis?"

Her smile swelled "Yes?"

"You said I was lonely," I said calmly.

"You are lonely," she confirmed, her voice aggressive and poised. "That's why you are hiding. The only place more lonely than alone is alone with strangers."

I wasn't about to shut down the thought, because more than giving another sarcastic reaction, what she had said did make sense. I had many times found more solace in the isolation of a room than in the company of a stranger, friends, and even family. Growing up, I hadn't taken part in anything requiring frequent social interaction, because I claimed, I simply did not like people. After a few years when I was younger, I considered myself done with the other children, and locked myself up in the library, studying the ancient texts my mother had allowed me to read. It was less lonely there than it was in the classes and the extracurriculars. Still somewhat lonely, of course, but better. It was something I never stopped doing.

It was something I noticed over the years, about being alone. It was never exactly happy, but it wasn't rejection, and somehow the was better. It had to take a lonely person to understand that.

It could only mean one thing. "I guess that makes you lonely too then."


End file.
